


I Won't Let You

by stereks_fifth_nipple



Series: I'm Being Cruel to Be Kind [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Asshole Derek, Character Death, Coming Untouched, Crying During Sex, Deals, Death, Demons, Desperation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Fighting, Heartbreak, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Knotting, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Overstimulation, Protective Derek, Resurrection, Song fic, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Temporary Character Death, Witches, crossroad demons, hardcore angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 14:54:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5544155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereks_fifth_nipple/pseuds/stereks_fifth_nipple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles turned to find a leggy woman with smooth, auburn hair watching him curiously. Her eyes were a blazing red that were much more eerie than an alpha werewolf’s; rather than a black pupil, there was just a darker shade of red. Stiles voice was raspy from disuse when he spoke, “What’s it going to take to have someone resurrected?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Me Down Gently

Their relationship was more intense than anything either of them had felt before. Sometimes Stiles would feel the breath get knocked out of his lungs purely because everything he felt was just so strong. Their first kiss was after Derek came back to Beacon Hills, after the Dread Doctors were defeated but not quite Theo.

 

 Scott thought he was being the hero, thought he could give Theo a second chance. He still didn't understand when Stiles told him it was self-defense and Theo was the one who sent him. Stiles didn’t understand why Scott kept Theo around after that.Scott didn't understand that Theo only allied with them to get what he wanted.

 

Scott McCall, told Theo he would give him a second chance when the Dread Doctors were all gone, and they could all go home. As soon as he turned his back to head over to get Liam from where he was sitting and holding a broken but healing arm, Theo started laughing, maniacally. He was tossing something from hand to hand casually and the shadows blocking most of their vision made him seem even more malicious. Everyone was watching, and Stiles was the closest. He wouldn't stop laughing. He just kept laughing. 

 

 _“Scott, you're still ignoring him?”_ His voice still rings in Stiles head, even when it was so long ago. “ _You_ _know_   _that I lied. You know I sent Donovan to kill Stiles, you have to. Well, I guess if you're still doing the whole pure, untouchable hero act, here, it'll only make this easier.”_ Derek hadn't been close enough and Scott realized what Theo was about to do a second too late. Stiles' hand trailed over his abdomen while he looked back on what had happened next, where there was a shimmering silver scar. Theo had stopped tossing what had actually been a switchblade and put it through Stiles.

 

Even then he was laughing and Stiles can still hear it sometimes. The same way he can hear the nogitsune saying his name. The scrape of a whiskey glass on table. Screaming and heart rate monitors. MRI machines. Erica calling him a good Batman.

 

It’s all still there, in the scars left on his body.

 

Stiles can still feel the way that Theo had held Stiles to him, a hand between his shoulder blades and the other holding the knife hilt-deep, leaving no room for escape from the pain. He can still hear when he pulled the knife out in one fluid motion with a sickening noise. He remembers the shock and the way his eyes stayed wide open. The way he never even hit the ground. The blood was coming out of his wound fast, but Derek stayed right there with him.

 

He remembers hearing Malia's growls at Theo, and Scott’s yelling. The blood started dripping over his lips and he was just dazedly staring at the stars in the sky, noticing that the light pollution wasn’t so bad and he could actually see them that night. Then again, maybe that was a comfort his mind gave him and maybe those stars weren’t really there.

 

Stiles remembers hearing Scott. _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Stiles, you're gonna be okay._

 

 

He woke up in the hospital to a head of dark hair laid down next to his hip as Derek slept. His dad's work jacket was hanging over the back of another chair, and a stack of empty coffee cups was on the table next to it. Scott was there, too. He was wide awake and looked like a mess. He heard the moment Stiles woke up and a sob came from his throat. He looked younger, like a frightened child. Scott never left and he never slept, Stiles wasn't even sure if he had eaten, he has been there for the entire thirty hours it had been since Stiles was rushed into the hospital.

 

Scott was terrified and desperately sorry. The next few weeks Scott hung around, the hospital and then the Stilinski household, almost hypervigilant. Almost losing a brother will do that to you.

 

Derek was there, always. A steady and comforting presence. Helping Stiles keep the stab wound clean while it healed, watching movies, cooking with him in a way no one has since his mother, and even helping Stiles keep track of his dad while the teen couldn’t move around as much. The one time Stiles asked him why he stuck around, why he was always there for him, he was answered with a soft smile, a slow but fond shake of the head, and a kiss in his living room.

 

A sweet press of the lips, no further, but one that lingered the way that all their hugs had for a long time.

 

When he was healed enough to be out and about without ripping his wound open, all of his time was spent at Derek's. Stiles was the only one allowed to have a spare key to Derek's. When he was having bad days where he just wanted to hide away Derek didn't let him. Stiles grounded Derek and kept him from his anger. They reeked of affection and trust, but most importantly of each other. Everyone knew how perfect they were, after-all, they were Stiles and Derek. So when Derek stopped talking to Stiles altogether in June no one knew what to say.

 

 

_If you're not the one for me, why do I hate the idea of being free?_

 

 

It crushed him. He didn't even know what he did wrong. They had spent too many nights together, done too many things with each other, for this to be simply them growing apart. It hurt and ached, so differently from wounds that he had previously sustained. 

 

Lydia tried to get him to forget about Derek. Tried to get him to move on and date someone else, or even just hookup. When he thought about not spending the rest of his life with Derek, when he thought about being with someone else, he felt sick to his stomach.

 

At pack meetings, Derek stopped looking at him. There were no more lingering glances and longing looks. No more unnecessary touches and sweet smiles directed at Stiles for the pack to mock. He didn't even directly speak to Stiles. Stiles didn’t think any of it was fair. Derek crushed his heart and he’s still in perfect condition. Did he feel nothing at all?

 

The smell of sadness became part of Stiles. Even Lydia could tell when specific things hurt Stiles more than others and she doesn't have super senses. She does, however, have biting remarks that everyone know are indirectly about what Derek is doing to her friend. 

 

Scott stuck with him after Stiles was stabbed in a way that he hadn’t since he was still a wheezing asthmatic. Stiles almost felt bad for him because sometimes when he planned to hang out with Stiles but someone else wanted him to come over he looked like he might have a stroke from trying to make a decision.

 

The decision was easier to make when he could smell the heartbreak on his best friend and he followed Stiles’ jeep to his house on the bike. They played video games until Stiles was ready to talk. Only he never actually talked about it, because at some point his eyes just decided to start crying without his fucking permission. 

 

Scott held him through it, every single time it happened. 

 

Once, he was just having a cup of coffee at Jitters when someone came and sat with him. They talked for a long while, and the guy (his name was Jay) made Stiles smile and laugh. When he left Stiles his number Stiles remembered, and he swallowed the lump in his throat and had to stare at the lights for a minute to control himself.

 

 

The next time he spent the night at Derek's wasn’t until the middle of July and it was entirely on accident. They were working on finding the proper customs and traditions so they could deal with travelling dark fae without causing too much issue.

 

He had been practicing magic with Deaton a lot, and he isn’t Merlin or anything but this is hard, and he was just a little too exhausted. So he falls asleep on Derek's couch. Everyone was leaving except Scott and Lydia.

 

“What about Stiles?” Scott murmured.

 

“He can sleep here.” Derek answered instead of Lydia.

 

“N-“ Lydia nudged Scott and shook her head.

 

“He’s exhausted, just let him sleep a little while longer, Scott.” Lydia was finally able to lead him out after a moment, but not without him giving what he probably thought was a vicious glare to Derek.

 

When the pack had all definitely left, Derek looked down at Stiles. His face softened and he exhaled quietly, before lifting him off the couch and walking with him toward Derek's room. He woke slightly with a confused sound just as Derek set him down. 

 

"Go back to sleep, Stiles." He whispered softly, and Stiles nodded, still half asleep. Just before he fell back into unconsciousness his hand latched on to Derek's wrist, and if Derek held Stiles for just a little while, and Stiles let him even if it’s just as bitter as it is sweet, well, they don’t have to tell anyone.

 

 

_If I’m not the one for you, why have we been through what we’ve been through?_

 

Of course, they’re thrown together in a typical Stiles and Derek fashion, a life or death situation. All of that research they did on the dark fae was entirely useless because the fae wanted to wreak havoc and nor listen. One of them mistook Derek for the alpha because he’s bigger than Scott and they stuck him with some sort of tranquilizer before they took off running back into the woods laughing.

 

“I’m so sorry Stiles, we need someone to stay here with him,” Scott said. “He needs someone to watch his back.”

 

They took off into action. Stiles didn’t really mind watching Derek, truth be told he liked being able to watch over Derek while he was vulnerable so he could know he’s safe. He laid him across the floor in the back of the borrowed van, with Derek’s head in his lap. Playing with Derek’s hair and watching his face calmed him from worrying about the pack. At least he couldn’t hurt Stiles’ feelings further when he’s like this.

 

He took Derek home that night. He and Scott each had one of Derek’s arms over their shoulders when they carried him across the loft and to bed.

 

“You want a ride home?” Scott asked.

 

“Nah,” Stiles said. “I kind of want to make sure whatever they shot him with doesn’t kill him in his sleep or something.”

 

Scott didn’t say anything, he understood, he only nodded and left.

 

 

When Derek woke up, he startled Stiles who was just about to fall asleep while sitting up and reading.

 

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked.

 

“I, uh, stayed to make sure you were okay,” Stiles stood and rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything we didn’t expect with the tranquilizer.”

 

Derek nodded and looked down at the blanket draped over him. The one Stiles had put over him after taking off his shoes.

 

Derek cleared his throat, “Uh, thanks. But I’m fine now.”

 

Stiles heart sunk with those words, each one a different canon ball into the raft he was barely holding onto as is. He gave a smile, which was probably more of a grimace, and turned to leave. He stopped himself and turned back to face Derek.

 

“Are we… Did I do something wrong?” Stiles asked, voice uncertain.

 

“No, Stiles,” Derek sighed. “It’s late, you should go home.”

 

“But…” Stiles trailed off. “I… You’ve just been ignoring me for a while and… You didn’t even tell me why. I just want to know what I did,” He finally met Derek’s eyes and the concern, desperation, sadness, and defeat was all there. “There has to be something wrong if you’re avoiding me like this. I mean… we were only just starting to get along.” He laughed out.

 

“Stiles,” Derek said gently, running a hand through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Some things… just don’t last. There isn’t a reason for it, and it just happens. Just try not to think about it too much and we can both move on.”

 

“This isn’t just ‘something that doesn’t last’, Derek,” Stiles said, a little bit angry. “This was way too abrupt for you to give me that bullshit. One day everything was fine, we were fine. Then you just stopped fucking answering me. You wouldn’t even look at me,” Stiles voice cracked, and he looked up at the ceiling to avoid crying while letting out the laugh of someone who didn’t find the situation funny at all.

 

Derek looked away. “I’m sorry, Stiles.” When he looked back his resolve was also back. “We just weren’t right for each other. You should go home now.”

 

“Weren’t right for each other.” Stiles repeated with no emotion. “Maybe I wasn’t right for you, in your eyes. You were right for me though. I know that.”

 

With that, he left. He managed to keep all the emotion off of his face up until he pulled into his driveway. The first dry sob to be let free brought the rest with it. Someone opened Stiles’ car door and pulled him up and into their embrace. His face was pressed into their warm neck as he continued to cry and Stiles knew it was Scott who had waited for when he inevitably came back from Derek’s. He didn’t realize he had accidentally set one of the neighbor’s bushes on fire until Scott started ushering him inside.

 

 

_I want you to be my keeper, but not if you are so reckless._

 

Stiles was  _pissed_. He was beyond livid.

 

A werewolf that didn’t come to Scott for permission to be in the territory had been in the woods and they found him. It was also in need for some anger management classes, about as badly as Liam. He was feral, and they didn’t know it until they saw him, because of course this is how their lives go and it couldn’t simply be a lost or confused, _sane_ wolf.

 

Then he was charging at Stiles, and what did Derek do? He jumped in front of Stiles. He sent the feral wolf flying, but also sustained some wounds.

 

Stiles was furious about it. Liam helped a limping Derek to Stiles’ jeep, because of course Stiles said he would take him home. All the wolves could smell the anger radiating off of Stiles. When Stiles was walking to his car he heard Scott say his name so he turned back.

 

Scott winced when he saw the anger etched into Stiles’ face. “Just… go easy on him…”

 

Stiles turned back to the jeep without a word and they rode to Derek’s place in an uncomfortable silence. Stiles had to help him up the stairs, and he still didn’t say a word, was hardly even looking in Derek’s direction beyond what was necessary. Not until he helped Derek onto his couch and Derek winced.

 

“What were you even thinking, you idiot?”

 

“What was I thinking?” Derek looked incredulous and confused. “There was a  _feral_  wolf coming at you and you’re asking me what I was thinking?”

 

“I could have handled it!” Stiles yelled, before taking a breath and lowering his voice slightly. “I’ve been working with my spark. Maybe you didn’t know that, considering you don’t talk to me anymore, but you can quit being the fucking sacrificial lamb for every danger that walks into Beacon Hills.” Stiles turned away from him.

 

“I’m not being the sacrificial lamb for every danger in Beacon Hills, Stiles. I was trying to protect you from a feral wolf, why are you so angry?”

 

“Because you are so… so reckless. You are so fucking reckless all the time and it drives me insane!” Stiles turned to face him again. “You don’t have to protect me from anything, I can handle myself. I’m not weak or whatever you may think, asshole.”

 

“I didn’t say that, Stiles, and you know it.”

 

“No, I really fucking don’t, considering you don’t even talk to me.” He almost snarled.

 

“Well, I didn’t,” Derek snapped. “Now would you quit being an idiot and calm down. I was just trying to protect you, Stiles.”

 

“I don’t need it!” Stiles shouted. “I don’t need your protection and I don’t want it!” One of Derek’s windows cracked.

 

“Well, you have it Stiles!”

 

“No.” Stiles muttered. “You don’t get to anymore Derek. It wasn’t exactly that long ago that you decided you didn’t want to be in my life, or whatever it was you were thinking. So, I can protect myself. You should worry about yourself.”

 

 

_If you’re gonna let me down, let me down gently, don’t pretend that you don’t want me._

“Stiles…” Derek sighed. Stiles almost thought he was going to do it. That he was going to close the gap that had been growing wider between the two of them. Then Derek’s eyes hardened once more and Stiles knew that wouldn’t be the case. “You should leave.”

 

“Yeah,” Stiles swallowed and looked away. “I suppose I should.”

 

_Our love ain’t water under the bridge._

_Say that our love ain’t water under the bridge._


	2. Cause If I Could See Your Face Once More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He fell apart right before their eyes. For the first time, Stiles Stilinski openly broke down in front of them.
> 
>  
> 
> Lydia covered her mouth and turned away as Stiles hit the ground and cried and yelled.
> 
>  
> 
> "No, no, no," He sobbed out, crawling toward where Derek's body lay. "Please, no. Derek, please."

_Stiles, something happened. We don't know what exactly, but just... you need to get here._

 

 

The feeling of an icy hand gripping his heart and squeezing was something he had only experienced a few times before. When you don't need to see to know how terribly wrong something is. His phone dropped from his hand but he didn't hear it hit the floor, he didn’t hear anything anymore. He could feel his pulse reach his ears, every pump, but he didn't hear the door to his room hit the wall when he yanked it open.

 

He almost brained himself on the way down the stairs, but that wasn't important in the moment. Nothing else was.

 

 

_It's Derek. Stiles, it's Derek._

 

 

His hands were shaking when he went to start the jeep, but he didn't begin processing what he was doing until he suddenly realized he was almost to the preserve. Almost.

 

When he parked his car next to Lydia’s and practically flew out of it, Kira saw him but instantly looked away. She couldn't even meet his eyes. "Scott's waiting for you. Everyone's about thirty yards past the tree line."

 

"Everyone? Where's Derek?"

 

"Stiles, go find Scott." She looked so  _goddamn sorry_ , though.

 

Walking toward the tree line felt like it was going by in slow motion. Like he was walking down an endless hallway and he couldn't reach the end no matter how long he was moving.

 

He arrived eventually, though. Lydia was standing in a floral dress, one arm across her own waist and the other raised as she chewed on her thumb nail. The habit was so Stiles-esque that if he didn't feel like his lungs were being restricted, he might laugh.

 

"Where are they?"

 

"Come on." She grabbed his arm, linked hers through in a way that was so opposite of the joyful way she usually did. It’s bad.

 

When they finally got closer, and he could see Scott through the trees, Lydia slowed to a stop. She gave him a half-hearted smile when he turned back to her. "Just keep going. I'll wait here."

 

So, he trudged on. When he got close enough to where he could see the worry line on Scott's forehead, he noticed everything else that was there. Scorch marks. Sigils. Bones and herbs. Derek.

 

The body of Derek Hale. Derek Hale who had survived every awful thing ever thrown at him, only to be killed by what looks like a witch.

 

 _Stiles'_  Derek.

 

He forced himself to meet Scott's eyes, not even feeling the tears already coming out of his. He couldn't feel that anymore. As he stood there shaking his head in disbelief, begging his friend to tell him  _it's all just a joke_ , he couldn't feel anything. Time stopped, and then Scott opened his mouth.

 

 

_I'm so sorry Stiles. I am so sorry._

 

  

Everything came flooding back in.  _Real._ There was a rushing in his ears. As he fell to his knees right there in the woods, he heard a wail. Taking it for Lydia's screaming, he wouldn't realize it was a noise that came from him until later.

 

He fell apart right before their eyes. For the first time,  _Stiles Stilinski_  openly broke down in front of them.

 

Lydia covered her mouth and turned away as Stiles hit the ground and cried and yelled.

 

" _No, no, no_ ,"  He sobbed out, crawling toward where Derek's body lay. "Please, no. Derek,  _please_."

 

He touched Derek's lifeless arm. They lie when they tell you bodies are freezing when you touch them. Yes, their extremities will eventually turn blue, but from lack of circulation not cold. Derek’s arm is warm. His body is warm like something the witch just left out in the sun and forgot about. He felt for a pulse, he had to know for sure, but he only found what was already evidently pointed out. Nothing.

 

 A new wave of crying hit, deep, chest-wracking sobs that had his chest heaving so hard that he wasn't making any noise. Stiles bent so that his forehead was pressed over Derek's heart as he kneeled. "You can't, you can't," He cried. "Derek, you can't."

 

There wasn’t a heart beat. 

 

Scott dragged in a shuddering breath as he watched his best friend fall apart over a pack mate’s body, and he could physically feel the hollow space carved out in him where he should've felt Derek's bond. A member of his pack’s life _._ _Derek’s life._

 

"You can't..." Stiles muttered against Derek's shirt again. This is the first time Scott can remember that he doesn't hear Derek's voice attempting to challenge what Stiles says he can and can’t do.

 

 

\--

 

  

No one was surprised by Stiles' newfound silence as Derek's body was put into a coroner's bag and loaded onto a truck. Scott was there to witness the silence after his mother's death first hand. When the Sheriff's car pulled up the car was barely in park before the door was thrown open and the Sheriff was running to Stiles.

 

Stiles looked up when he heard fast approaching footsteps, and his blank face crumpled when he saw the sympathy in his father's face. He silently cried into his father's shoulder when the Sheriff yanked him against his chest hard.

 

"Oh, Stiles..."

 

"He's gone, dad. What am I supposed to do?" He hiccupped. "He's gone..."

 

 

 --

 

 

The funeral was scheduled for three days later. Lydia and the Sheriff were planning it. Stiles wanted it to be private, he didn't want anyone from town coming and making a spectacle of the last Hale death. That was all that he said about that.

 

When the Scott came in the first morning after they found Derek, he wasn't surprised to find his best friend sitting on his bed with his back against the wall, in complete silence and staring at the blue of his wall. The beautiful blue that only served as a reminder of Derek’s eyes. He had been sitting in silence wherever he could find it for hours now.

 

 

\--

 

 

When Scott walked into Stiles room the day before the funeral, he double-took at the sight of the freshly painted white walls, but he didn't comment. He did, however, sit with Stiles in silence on the bed pushed toward the center of the room away from paint.

 

When Stiles realized he wasn't leaving anytime soon, he turned to meet Scott's eyes, but then turned away when his eyes welled up again.

 

"Stiles..." Scott sighed. "I-"

 

"Stop, Scott." Stiles' voice cracked from under-use. "It wasn't your fault, you didn't know."

 

Scott pressed his lips together, but he stopped. What was there to say?

 

Stiles shakily exhaled and tipped his head to rest on Scott's shoulder. "My chest hurts so  _badly_ , Scott. I feel like I can't breathe anymore."

 

Scott pulled him closer. "You're going to be okay. You're going to get through this. I promise."

 

Stiles shook his head, but he didn't say anything.

 

 

 --

 

 

When Stiles and his dad pulled up to the cemetery with the Hale plot, the one that Derek would be lowered into, Stiles got out of the car with a blank stare. Scott and his mom walked over to meet them, and Melissa McCall wrapped an arm around Stiles to pull him close and press a kiss to his forehead. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and the corner of his mouth twitched in what was likely to be a smile to reassure her, but came out as an even more doleful look.

 

It still didn't feel real. Even when Stiles stayed after everyone else had cleared out. Long enough to see the casket be lowered. He still had these hopes that the casket was empty and that Derek would come running to him, would save him from blankly staring at a freshly carved tombstone.

 

He would apologize for ever trying to distance himself from Stiles, he would apologize for  _dying on Stiles without permission_. Stiles would be angry,  _so damn angry_ , but also relieved. He would make Derek grovel just a little. When there was enough of that, though, Stiles would grip the back of his neck so hard, and he would yank him close enough to kiss the life right back out of.

 

"Stiles."

 

Stiles was interrupted from his daydream and brought back into his own personal hell. A place where Derek Anthony Hale no longer lived.

 

He turned to find his dad waiting for him. His eyes searching for any emotion that Stiles hasn't shown in two days.

 

"Are you ready?"

 

Stiles simply nodded. His dad put his arm around Stiles' shoulder as they walked back to the car, but Stiles kept his eyes on the ground. He didn't want to see his dad's face full of sadness and worry, and he didn't want to look at the sky.

 

It shouldn't be sunny on the day of Derek Hale's funeral. It should be raining and pouring, because Derek was a survivor and after everything- you'd think that the sky would just know what a tragedy his death was.

 

You'd think everyone would know what a tragedy his death was to Stiles.

 

Derek should have known.

 

 

\--

 

 

He was too quiet. He zoned out too much, would just blankly stare. Got lost in his fantasies of Derek coming back too much. The pack noticed. His dad noticed. Townspeople who he grew up around noticed.

 

But he didn’t ever blow up. He didn’t lash out, he didn’t get angry.

 

Not until he got a phone call from Deaton. Not until he met with the vet. Not until he learned of the most likely scenario, of what the sigils meant.

 

He slammed through the front door of the clinic while gunning for his Jeep so hard, and so angry, that he didn’t notice Scott until Scott was grabbing his bicep and hauling him back in front of him. He looked confused.

 

“Stiles, what’s happening?”

 

“That martyring fucking bastard knew!” Stiles yelled, yanking his arm from Scott.

 

“What? Stiles what does that mean?”

 

“The fucker knew he was going to die Scott! It wasn’t a fucking surprise. He- Derek knew he was marked, or whatever, and the witch came to collect. It’s why he was such a fucking asshole to me.”

 

“Stiles…” Scott began softly. “You-“

 

“I don’t want to talk right now Scott. I don’t want to be near people, I don’t want to look at people.” Stiles interrupted and stormed towards his Jeep.

 

When he was home, only then did he break. Only then did the anger come. And the breaking things, and the yelling, screaming, crying.

 

In the mess of books, projects, and papers everywhere, a snow globe that broke against his wall, his surfboard with a hole through it, and a tipped chair, Stiles sat. Feet flat and legs bent, elbows on his knees, holding his head.

 

“I hate you…” He cried. “You asshole,  _I hate you_. How could you… How could you do this to me?”

 

 


	3. Where it Wasn't Supposed to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles turned to find a leggy woman with smooth, auburn hair watching him curiously. Her eyes were a blazing red that were much more eerie than an alpha werewolf’s; rather than a black pupil, there was just a darker shade of red. Stiles voice was raspy from disuse when he spoke, “What’s it going to take to have someone resurrected?”

There was always a truth to a myth. There were always reasons people came to a conclusion or believed what they did. All you must do is find the origin.

 

Stiles found the book through the owner of a sketchy magic shop two hours from home. The shop is nestled in a town smaller in population than Beacon Hills but over such a large amount of land that everyone has their space. Which is a positive considering the majority of the population are members of the supernatural community.

 

It was colder here, farther north than Stiles is used to. The fields are mostly barren this time of year and parking lots never quite fill up.

 

When the hidden shop didn’t have a copy of the book in stores, the owner told Stiles he would get one, but Stiles would have to take the book off of his hands as soon as possible because this isn’t the kind of book he wants to be near.

 

Stiles couldn’t blame him.

 

You see, he’d heard the tales of what happens when you deal in this, but he found that the possible reward far outweighed the consequences.

 

Stiles didn’t even drive back to his house after he picked up his book. Instead he drove into the Beacon Hills city border and toward the more neglected part of town. The part of town where the farm houses are uninhabited, the corn grows wildly on one side and the trees loom on the other, and where the rocky roads rattle his Jeep.

 

He knew the general gist of what he was doing, he had found the location ahead of time. Marlow had almost had a heart attack when Stiles opened the pages he feared in the middle of his store, he would be apologetic, but he would rather have the ingredients before he got back to Beacon Hills.

 

Scott couldn’t know. Not yet.

 

The air was cool enough to feel like a spring morning, even at night, but not so cold as to give him goosebumps. The gravel parted easily and gave way to the little box he placed in the ground before covering it.

 

“I can only imagine what someone with your history wants a deal for, Spark.”

 

Stiles turned to find a leggy woman with smooth, auburn hair watching him curiously. Her eyes were a blazing red that were much more eerie than an alpha werewolf’s; rather than a black pupil, there was just a darker shade of red. Stiles voice was raspy from disuse when he spoke, “What’s it going to take to have someone resurrected?”

 

“Straight to the point, are we?” She laughed.

 

“I’d rather not be associating with a demon for too long, and I’d also like him back.”

 

“Derek Hale, huh?” She gracefully sat on the ground and leaned back on her hands. “I thought maybe your mom or the Argent girl were contenders until you used male pronouns. In case anyone ever told you it’s romantic to sell your soul for love, it isn’t.”

 

“I don’t care about that, I care that he’ll be alive.” Stiles said. “But, I need him to be just as he was. Nothing wrong with him caused by being dead for four months. I want him to be here as if he was never gone.”

 

“Smart of you to include that part,” She smirked.

 

“And no one who isn’t supernatural can know he came back to life. There needs to be some kind of glamour so they don’t think too hard about where Derek’s been the last few months.”

 

She whistled lowly, “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you.”

 

“Maybe,” Stiles answered with a shrug. “What’ll it cost?”

 

“Normally, ten years and then you’re mine. I have you dragged to hell,” She said, as she tilted her head in consideration. “What do I do when I have a power like you in front of me, though?”

 

Stiles shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

 

“Here’s the deal,” She said. “You come with me after I bring Derek back, not in ten years. Instead of going to Hell, you’re with me.”

 

Stiles was hoping it wouldn’t come to his immediate departure but he knew it was a possibility before coming here. “What exactly do you mean by going with you?”

 

“You become one of us, what else?” Her smile is patronizing and amused.

 

“A crossroads demon?”

 

“Not necessarily,” She shrugged. “A demon sure, but I’ll figure out a purpose for you. Maybe general mayhem, maybe as my second, the possibilities are endless. You could help me accomplish quite a bit of my dirty work.”

 

“If this is to happen, if I go with you, you have to be completely honest with me,” Stiles eyes are intense. “Nothing will be wrong with him? He’ll be okay, right?”

 

“You covered any loopholes, if that’s what you mean.” She stood again, casually moving toward Stiles. She pursed her lips. “As for whether or not he’ll be okay, I suppose he’ll be as okay as anyone would be when someone they love dies for them to live.”

 

“Well, he’ll have to go to therapy and get over that or something,” Stiles muttered. “At least he won’t be dead.”

 

The demon snorted. “I think I’ll like having you around. So, do we have a deal, Spark?”

 

Stiles took a breath, but he wasn’t thinking about the consequences or backing out. He knew what he was going to do. He would do anything for Derek. “I want a day to say goodbye to everyone after he comes back. And, once I’m with you,” He looked at her again. “I want to rip apart the witch who caused all of this.”

 

“I can handle that.”

 

“Then yeah,” Stiles swallowed and nodded. “We have a deal.”

 

“I’m Aednat,” She put her hand to his cheek. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

 

Then she sealed the deal with a kiss.

 

 

\--

 

 

Derek gasped as he sat up in bed. He doesn’t know when he got here, but he’s back home and looking around at his own furniture. The place is empty, and screams abandoned. It doesn’t smell like the pack or like life. It smells the way an attic filled with someone’s possessions might.

 

The last thing he remembered was Margaret coming back to Beacon Hills for him after previously leaving her mark on him. What the hell happened and how is he alive?

 

Derek stood, noticing he was wearing the last thing he remembered wearing, and decided a hot shower and some clean clothes would probably do him some good.

 

 

\--

 

 

“Hey,” Scott called to Lydia as he got off his bike. “Do you know why Stiles wanted to meet at the loft? He’s been avoiding this place like the plague.”

 

“No, but I have the weirdest feeling. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t really think it’s good.”

 

“I think I can hear him,” Scott’s eyebrows scrunched together as he listened. “Heartbeat sounds steady.” He shrugged.

 

Lydia still wasn’t sure that everything was fine, but she pouted as she flipped her hair and walked through the parking lot like everything was fine, anyway. Scott walked in front of her, shoulders squared, blocking Lydia from anything that might be wrong.

 

“I’m not sure it’s Stiles I hear up there,” Scott said under his breath as they finished climbing the stairs.

 

“What does it sound like?”

 

“I don’t know, it’s too calm for Stiles, even lately. I can hear… is someone doing laundry?”

 

When the loft door rolled open, Scott stopped and froze in the doorway. “Scott, what is it? I can’t see.” Lydia tried to raise on her toes and peer over his shoulder.

 

Scott didn’t even hesitate, even though he can’t remember ever hugging Derek in his life. When he saw the older wolf pause where he was towel-drying his hair at the sight of Scott, he didn’t even think about it.

 

Scott collided with him a little hard, making Derek drop his towel, and gripped him even harder, but all he could feel was an immense amount of relief that made his eyes water slightly. As soon as Scott made contact with Derek, he could feel the bond snap back into place so hard that he almost fell if it weren’t for Derek picking up his slack.

 

“Oh my God,” Lydia whispered.

 

Scott pulled back when he heard her. “What- How are you here? How is this possible?”

 

Derek shrugged and bent to grab his towel. “I just woke up in my bed. The last thing I remember was being in the woods with the Reicher witch and then I’m here.”

 

“Derek, do you know what today is?” Lydia asked cautiously.

 

He looked a little bit lost. “I don’t… I have no idea. I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’re staring at me like that.”

 

Lydia nodded and looked away to blink tears back. She reached over and ran her hands over Derek’s shoulder and down his arm before she let her arm drop, both reassuring her of his presence and unknowingly scent marking Derek.

 

They all turned when they heard footsteps and watched as Kira walked inside the open loft door. “Holy-“

 

“Why are we here?” Malia called, also walking in. “I was in the middle of,” She, too, stopped abruptly at the sight of her cousin. “Derek.”

 

Kira looked to Scott and Lydia. “Is this… real?”

 

Scott nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“Does Stiles know?” Malia asked.

 

Derek looked to Scott at this, also wanting to know.

 

“I think…” Scott shook his head like he was trying to convince himself it didn’t sound crazy. “I think Stiles did this.”

 

Lydia cut her gaze over to Scott sharply. “You think Stiles did this? How could he have brought Derek back from the dead, it’s been four months.”

 

“Four months?” Derek’s eyes widened.

 

“Sorry,” Lydia shrugged, looking genuinely apologetic.

 

“Lydia has a point, Scott.” Malia said. “How could Stiles have done this? Aren’t there consequences to this kind of magic?”

 

“Always.” Lydia muttered.

 

“I don’t know, but he’s been radio-silent. It’s Stiles. When does he ever not save Derek?”

 

“Holy shit,” They all turned to see Liam and Mason in the doorway. “Did not see this coming.”

 

“Beacon Hills could not possibly get any weirder.”

 

Everyone came further into the room, settling on the couches that haven’t been touched in months. Kira hugged Derek first, squeezing him and adding, “I’m glad you’re back.”

 

“What did that idiot do this time?” Lydia didn’t look as jovial as everyone else at the appearance of the Hale wolf. “Don’t get me wrong, Derek, you don’t know how glad I am that you’re back, but I don’t know how he could have pulled this one off.”

 

“Are we sure it was Stiles?” Derek asked.

 

“Well,” Scott said. “He’s the one who texted us all to meet at the loft tonight. We haven’t been here since you, you know. Then the one night he tells us to come here, and you show up alive?”

 

“Of course, it was Stiles,” Derek sighed. He had been hoping to avoid Stiles doing anything stupid or dangerous by not telling anyone about the witch’s mark, but he should’ve known that it was unavoidable and even dead Stiles would find a way to protect him.

 

“Oh shit,” Scott said. “We have to tell Cora and Isaac. Oh God, and Peter. Peter almost ripped apart the coven that raised the witch who… Anyway, yeah, we need to tell them.”

 

“I am not going to be the one,” Lydia said. “I’ll tell Isaac. I’d rather deal with waterworks than anger.”

 

“I’ll call them,” Derek said softly.

 

Lydia looked surprised, although she didn’t know why she was. They all know he cares even when he can’t always show it. “Are you sure you’re up for it?”

 

“Yeah, I want to. First, where is Stiles?”

 

“I’ll text him again,” Kira said, already on her phone and switching to the messaging app.

 

“So,” Mason asked, clearly curious and a little amazed. “If I die, am I going to stay dead or will I randomly come back to life, too? I feel like this is important information to know.”

 

“Get yourself a Stiles, and maybe,” Malia answered seriously from her perch on the arm of the couch.

 

“He texted back,” Kira called to where Lydia, Scott, and Derek were standing a bit farther from the group and toward the windows. “He’s on his way here. He said he hit traffic but I don’t know where he’s coming from that there would be any traffic.”

 

“He might not have even been in Beacon Hills,” Liam said. “As far as we know, there haven’t been any random resurrections performed here before.”

 

“He was definitely in Beacon Hills at the time Derek came back,” Lydia said, staring blankly at the wall. “I can’t tell how I know, but he was definitely within the city’s limits.”

 

“How about while we wait for Stiles, you guys can fill me in on what’s happened since I’ve been gone?” Derek clapped as he dragged the attention of the pack back to him.

 

“Well, Stiles has gone off the deep- Ow!” Liam rubbed his sternum where Mason elbowed him. “He asked!”

 

“For factual information,” Mason argued. “Not for you to upset him.”

 

“Well,” Malia butted in. “It is a fact that Stiles has been a little… Out of it.”

 

Derek frowned, and Kira quickly changed subjects. “It’s honestly been pretty calm the last few months. Only a few small altercations.”

 

“Yeah, because Stiles vaporized anyone who- Ow!” Liam turned to glare at Mason. “Quit hitting me!”

 

“Quit being stupid!”

 

“I’m not-“

 

Scott shoved Liam away from Mason so that there is a cushion of space between them.

 

“It’s been fine, Derek,” Scott said, but he looked tired. “Don’t worry too much about it. We’ve been a little tougher on any supernatural or hunter clan that has come into the territory, but it seems to be working.”

 

Derek’s eyes looked sad, but he kept a straight face. “He wasn’t okay, was he?”

 

Scott sighed. “No, he really wasn’t.”

 

“Hey,” Kira said optimistically. “The sheriff will be really happy to see you. I tried to watch one of his games with him when Stiles was busy, but that is definitely your guys’ thing.”

 

Derek gave her a small smile, wanting to acknowledge the sweet girl’s attempt at lightening the mood.

 

Then there were steps running up the stairs on the way to the loft and the entire pack looked over to see Stiles fall into the open doorway. His eyes scanned the room with more emotion than they had seen from him in months before they landed on Derek with an, “Oh, thank God.”

 

Derek took a step toward him, then he was running, and Derek was holding him. He tangled his fingers in the hair at the back of Derek’s head and squeezed him back tight with his other arm. His chin was hooked over Derek’s shoulder, but he could still smell the saline of Stiles’ tears. 

He could also, however, smell the relief like it was a tangible object.

 

The pack tried not to watch as Derek and Stiles clung to each other, tried to give them their moment. It was hard when Scott and Lydia were both close to tears because they’ve missed Stiles, the animated Stiles that doesn’t walk through life like a zombie.

 

Before Stiles had even fully pulled himself out of Derek’s arms, Lydia cleared her throat. “So, how’d you do it?”

 

Stiles groaned, “Can’t we just have one day where we can be happy and normal about this before we go into any of that? One day?”

 

Lydia kept her stare level for a few silent moments before her face softened. She pursed her lips before finally deciding, “One day Stiles. Then it’s confession time.” She walked up to the two of them, hugged each of them tightly, and turned to the rest of the pack. “Alright, let’s give them some time together.”

 

Everyone slowly filed out, Kira with a kiss to each of their cheeks. Scott hugged Derek one more time and then turned to Stiles. He exhaled with something like worry and relief tied into one emotion, so much like his mother, and he grabbed Stiles and hugged him hard. Stiles put his arms up and hugged him back just as tightly. Before Scott pulled entirely back, he kissed Stiles’ hair without thought, the same way Stiles’ dad does.

 

“When you do stupid shit,” Scott looked him dead in his eyes. “You call me. No matter what, okay? You worry me. I don’t ever want to have to wait for you to wake up in a hospital again.”

 

“Sorry, Scott.” Stiles said sincerely.

 

Scott nodded and took one more breath to relax himself. “Text me when you get back to your house. If you’re staying here tonight, do not forget to text me. Even if you get there at the ass crack of dawn or one in the afternoon. Okay?”

 

“I will,” Stiles laughed, but that came out a little emotional, too.

 

“Okay, I’ll see you guys sometime tomorrow. Be prepared, you’re going to get _grilled_ by Lydia.”

 

Scott left and for almost an entire minute the loft was dead silent. Stiles stared at the loft door and couldn’t bring himself to just turn his head to the right and look at Derek. He was scared he made this whole thing up, or it didn’t work, and Derek wouldn’t be there when he turned around.

 

He needed the pack here, both to see them and to reassure himself with the fact that they could see Derek, too.

 

“Stiles,” Stiles’ breath caught, his voice was still so soft. “Look at me.”

 

Stiles let himself exhale and he slowly, so very slowly, turned to meet Derek’s gaze. His breath caught in his chest again and he realized he was crying, and then he couldn’t stop. Derek stepped closer to him and grabbed his face. He kissed away his tears and then he kissed his forehead and his nose, his cheeks and his chin.

 

“I was worried it didn’t work,” He sobbed out shakily.

 

Derek pulled him to his chest and tucked Stiles’ head under his chin. “It’s okay, it worked. I don’t know what you did, and don’t get me wrong I’ll give you an earful for it tomorrow, but it worked.”

 

Stiles clenched his fingers in the back of Derek’s shirt and breathed in the smell of him. “Can I stay here with you tonight?”

 

“As if I would let you out of my sight tonight,” Derek laughed, Stiles started crying again at the sound.

 

Derek’s warm palms grabbed the back of Stiles’ thighs just before he pulled them up around his waist. He carried him up the stairs to set him on the edge of the bed and remove his shoes. Derek took off his own shirt and lounge pants, and by the time he was done Stiles had his shirt off and was in the process of getting his jeans off.

 

The familiar boxers made him laugh before he crawled onto his bed and hauled Stiles back into his chest, where the two would stay for the night. Derek fell asleep quickly, with his nose buried in Stiles shoulder; Stiles was awake for a while, thinking about the fact that Derek didn’t know this would be their last night together, and memorizing the feeling of the wolf’s arms around him.


	4. Don't Think, Just Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just porn. Read or don't read, you choose. Plot next chapter.

Stiles wakes up to the feeling of familiar hands brushing down his arms and over his sides. His mind is still groggy and all he can process is the warmth and the feeling of comfort the hands give him.

 

The blankets feel like clouds and the rubbing is soothing and putting him back to sleep, until a warm mouth latches onto the side of his neck from behind.

 

“Der,” Stiles cries, surprised. Derek hums with a mouthful of Stiles skin, making Stiles shiver.

 

Stiles is on his side facing the dresser with Derek pressed fully along his back. Derek’s right hand slowly moves along his ribs and then around to the front to rub over Stiles’ right nipple. Both pebble instantly from the contact, and then the wolf’s fingers are pinching it. Stiles arches his back with a gasp and shudder, God, he’s missed this.

 

“Der,” He says the name like he’s begging, but he doesn’t know what he’s begging for.

 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Derek unlatches his mouth to say, and the human can already feel the tender area and how big the bruise will be.

 

“Please,” He moans, when Derek’s hand glides over his stomach to rest over his boxer-clad dick, a warm and firm pressure for him to rut against.

 

Derek’s chuckle is deep, and Stiles already knows what his eyes look like, the blown pupils he associates with that teasing laugh. There’s a moment where Stiles thinks he’s going to have to start squirming and whining to get his way, but then Stiles is saved by a familiar _snick_ just before he feels a hand reach down the back of his boxers. A lube-slick finger drags over his hole a few times making his hips quiver before it finally sinks inside.

 

“More,” Stiles huffs, getting warmer and realizing how much he’s been aching for this.

 

Derek quickly moves through a second and a third finger as Stiles rocks back as much as he can while on his side. The slick push and glide feels hypnotizing to Stiles’ still sleepy mind, like he’s drunk on Derek’s fingers opening him up.

 

When his fingers hit Stiles prostate, his hips jump, and his breathing gets heavier. Derek moves over the same spot again and again. Stiles tries to keep noise in by biting his lip and clenching the blankets, but Derek notices and taps his prostate again just a bit harder than before, and Stiles cries out, “Please!”

 

Derek’s fingers are still inside him when he kisses up Stiles neck to his ear, “Sh, baby. It’s okay.”

 

Derek shoves Stiles’ boxers down and off, before his left arm goes under Stiles’ neck and across his collar bones to hold his right shoulder, that way his left arm doesn’t fall asleep. His other hand grabs Stiles’ right thigh and pushes it up toward his chest until Stiles is spread enough for him to slide the head of his cock over where he’s loosened up.

 

He grabs his dick and moves it back and forth, over Stiles’ hole a few times, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat slow down as he calms down without something inside him. He shifts impatiently but keeps his leg up for Derek to enter. “Please. Derek, please, I’m ready. I’m so-“

 

His voice breaks on a high-pitched mewl as Derek pushes in slowly, so much slower than how they used to go, but they aren’t in a rush. Stiles feels so hot, like he’s burning up and he just needs everything Derek wants to give him.

 

Derek pushes Stiles’ thigh up again when it slides down a little bit, and he sinks in that much deeper with a groan on his part and a forced out _ahn_ from Stiles.

 

When Derek pulls out at a glacial pace before he shoves back in hard, Stiles yells out at the unexpected force and his hands fly up to grasp at Derek’s forearm across his collarbones.

 

“Is this okay?” Derek murmurs so softly in Stiles’ ear that you wouldn’t think he was in the process of pulling out and ramming back into him again. Stiles nods, can’t tell Derek how okay it is through the gasping breaths he’s taking with each push in. “Good.” Then his hand is moving from Stiles’ thigh to his hip, and Stiles is being pulled back with every thrust.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Stiles gasps, and his hands squeeze Derek’s arm tighter. “Fuck, please.”

 

Derek doesn’t increase his pace, but he does start thrusting rougher and harder. Stiles’ toes curl and he has to move his right hand off of Derek’s arm, so he can claw the sheets as hard as he wants with one hand but still be touching Derek.

 

The werewolf growls into his neck before he moves his right hand again, from clenching Stiles’ hip to wrapping around his entire waist, and with one arm around his shoulders and one around his waist he has more leverage to pull Stiles back into his thrusts.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” Stiles voice breaks on an exhale before he gasps on the next inhale. Everything is tight and hot, and the head of his dick is brushing against all of the best places on the way out only to shove against them with intent on the way in. “F-fuck. Oh, _fuck_ , Derek.”

 

Stiles takes a wet, sobbing breath when Derek grinds forward instead of pulling out after one particularly hard thrust. Derek pushes his nose into Stiles’ hair behind his ear, they’re both slightly sweaty and panting roughly.

 

Derek’s thrusts start getting shorter, not pulling out fully before thrusting in again and grinding until Stiles whimpers, and then repeating the process again.

 

There’s a pause where Derek adjusts his grip before he’s snapping his hips into Stiles’ ass with a resounding slap and Stiles is crying out loudly again. “Der, _Derek_!”

 

Derek stops again and brushes his mouth along Stiles’ cheek, “I’m right here, Stiles. I’ve got you.”

 

He watches as Stiles releases his breath and his right hand flies from the sheets and blankets to reach behind and grip Derek’s dark hair. He turns his head as much as he can while they lay on their sides and kisses the corner of Derek’s mouth.

 

“Perfect, you’re perfect,” Derek says, and then his hips are rolling into Stiles again. He starts off gently again, rolling up and easing back out to the fine tune of Stiles breathy puffs of air and strained moans.

 

Derek’s breath is hot on Stiles neck and shoulder when he starts talking again, “God, I missed this. Missed you.”

 

Stiles was already overwhelmed and watery-eyed, but now the tears are spilling over. “Missed you, too. So much. Please, Der, please.”

 

“What did I tell you, baby? I have you.” Then Derek is going from rolling his hips and gently thrusting back to his forceful, pounding rhythm from before.

 

“Ah!” Stiles cries before he bites the corner of the blanket so that with every thrust, the needy sound accompanying it is muffled. Derek gets a little wilder with every forced _mm, hm, mmph, nh._

 

Everything is building inside of Stiles, it’s hot and it aches. He just wants to come, but when he releases Derek’s ruffled hair to grab his leaking dick, Derek grabs his wrist and brings Stiles’ own arm around his waist with Derek’s, so he can’t touch. Derek is panting, too, breath catching for a moment each time he’s fully seated again. “Just like this, Stiles. I want to feel you just like this.”

 

Stiles spits the blanket out of his mouth, and his crackling voice makes him feel so desperate, but he can’t bring himself to care about it as he starts to beg. “Please, please, please. I have to, _fuck._ ”

 

Without the blanket to keep him quiet, he keens with every inward thrust, loudly. Derek kisses his shoulder. “You’re so close, aren’t you, Stiles? Are you gonna come for me?”

 

“Yes!” He sobs, but he’s shaking his head back and forth with his eyes clenched shut, too overstimulated to be able to do anything else. The hand that hasn’t left Derek’s forearm is clenching and unclenching with the thrusts into his body.

 

Derek bites down on Stiles neck to muffle his own panting, Stiles knows how his own pleasure gets Derek off. The smell of his desperation and overwhelmed tears, and the way he can hardly even speak let alone think. While this position is doing something to make Stiles’ brain short-circuit, it’s doing the same for Derek.

 

Stiles wants to come so badly but Derek refuses to touch him or let him touch himself, and the bastard knows how hard it is for Stiles to come untouched. He also knows how great the orgasm is when he manages to do it.

 

Stiles clenches down on Derek, and Derek roars loudly as his hips jerk forward uncontrollably, “Fuck!”

 

“Oh, God,” Stiles whimpers. “Oh, God. Fu-ahh-”

 

“Stiles, please,” Derek whines lowly. “I want to knot you. Please, please let me knot you, baby.”

 

“Anything,” Stiles says, barely breathing. It’s mere seconds before he can feel it. The knot grows, and Stiles can feel it catching on his rim, he can feel a sharp tug with every movement inward or outward, and he keens with each one.

 

When Derek finally shoves him full and stays inside of him, he doesn’t stop moving. His hips keep going and he’s grinding his knot right into Stiles’ prostate, and he _has_ to know what he’s doing. Stiles’ breath catches and his lip quivers, and then he’s lost in his own orgasm as his entire body locks up. He doesn’t make a sound as his eyes roll up into his head, his toes curl, and his mouth drops open in a silent scream. His arm is still being held across his body by Derek’s and he feels pinned down, like he can’t do anything to stop the rolling waves from hitting him over and over.

 

Derek still doesn’t stop, instead it’s like the tight squeeze of Stiles’ body encourages him to continue grinding and burning Stiles away from the inside out. Stiles can’t stop his body from quivering and shuddering, but he’s too overstimulated to stop it even if he wanted to.

 

Derek let’s out an inhuman noise as he starts to come, somewhere between a growl and a howl. He squeezes his arms a fraction tighter around Stiles body while he floods him, and Stiles’ shoulders ripple again at the feeling.

 

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” Derek slurs, and Stiles has a moment to grasp that he’s speaking around fangs before the thought slips back out of reach.

 

“No,” Stiles sighs. “Good. Feels good.” Derek kisses his shoulder, then kisses across it to his neck, up his neck and to his cheek. Stiles smiles dopily, “Love you.”

 

“I love you, too,” Derek says between the kisses he’s peppering all over Stiles. “So much.”

 

Stiles hums happily as Derek starts running his fingers through his hair. “Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll be here.”

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. This Isn't Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of part 1.

“You’re letting me put powdered sugar on my French toast?”

 

John Stilinski was more than suspicious of his son now. He had known that Stiles had done something he wasn’t ready to talk about yet in order to get Derek Hale back, but he didn’t realize how bad it was.

 

“It’s celebratory,” Stiles smiled, thought it was a little forced and more than a little nervous. “Don’t get used to the idea of just eating sugar.”

 

His dad hummed at him, eyebrow still raised, but started to cut into his breakfast. “Alright, well, I’m done for the day at seven tonight and then I want an explanation for why you decided to get up, drive all the way here from Derek’s, make me breakfast at seven in the morning, _and_ let me have powdered sugar.”

 

“Yeah, I… Yeah,” Stiles sighed and ran a hand through his hair, even longer than he kept it normally. “Mind if I commandeer the kitchen for a pack dinner tonight?”

 

“Depends, what’s in it for me?” His dad joked.

 

“Food. And an explanation.” Stiles stated, flatly, the expression so similar to what his dad sees in the mirror.

 

The sheriff pretended to think about it. “I suppose that’s okay with me.”

 

“I think… they’re not going to be very happy with me at all.” Stiles chewed on his lip. “If it weren’t for how upset Scott would be, I wouldn’t even tell them.”

 

“Why is Scott going to be upset?”

 

Stiles shrugs with an unconvincing smile, “He’s a worrier.”

 

“For good reason,” Stiles’ dad looked at him seriously.

 

“Dad,” Stiles’ eyes watered, he inhaled but his breath stuttered. “Dad, I couldn’t leave him in the ground any more than I could have left you.”

 

The sheriff’s expression softened as he stood to yank his son into a hug. “God, why’d you have to be such a good kid?”

 

\--

 

Stiles looked over everyone’s faces as they stared at him expectantly before he looked away and huffed for the umpteenth time as he tried to find his words. He wrung his hands together and paced a few steps.

 

“Come on, Stiles, out with it.”

 

“I’m just trying to figure out how to explain this without it sounding bad.”

 

“It already sounds bad.” His dad said dryly. “Stop trying to do damage control and just tell us what’s going on and what we have to do.”

 

“You don’t have to do anything.”

 

“Then explain everything,” Derek insisted.

 

“Okay, so…” Stiles exhaled and flopped back into his seat. He rubbed his hands across his face before dropping them carelessly. His cheeks were flushed with the effort he was putting into thinking and the emotions he was rolling through. The majority of the pack was sitting in various positions around the room, even his dad was watching him from the couch with crossed arms, except for Derek. Derek stared at him intently with crossed arms from behind his dad. “So, I might have to… go away for a while.”

 

It was quiet while everyone waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

 

Lydia blinked at him before snapping, “Explain.”

 

It was typical of her to lash out when she was confused, frustrated, or upset. That only made him feel worse because he knows where it’s coming from.

 

“I don’t have the power to just raise people from the dead,” he said, swallowing. “I had a little bit of help. So, now I have to keep up my end of the bargain and that involves leaving Beacon Hills.”

 

“Stiles,” Derek growled. “What the hell does that even mean? Is someone leveraging something over you? What do they expect of you if you go with them? You need to explain this clearly.”

 

Stiles was looking at the floor instead of anyone else. “I can’t really tell you guys anything because you can’t interfere.”

 

Derek breathed heavily through his nose and turned away, clearly hiding his anger, frustration, and possible partial shifting.

 

Mason looked between the two and decided to try and ease the tension by figuring out more on the situation, “Who did you get help from? A necromancer?”

 

Stiles looked over at him and gave him a half smile while shaking his head.

 

“You can’t tell us that either?”

 

“What, that’s it?” Lydia questioned sharply. “You bring Derek back and now all we get is an, ‘oh, I have to leave, and I can’t tell you with who or where I’m going,’ seriously?”

 

“Absolutely not,” the sheriff cut in before Stiles could even respond. “You’re not going anywhere.”

 

“Dad,” Stiles half-heartedly argued. “I’m eighteen now, you can’t exactly stop me.”

 

“Like hell I can’t.”

 

“Guys, I made this decision of sound mind and body, I have to-“

 

“Sound mind and body?” Scott asked. This was the first time he had spoken since dinner. his voice was a little rough with emotion and there was a cold look to his face that Stiles hadn’t ever seen. “You were grieving when you made the deal. You weren’t of sound anything.”

 

“Scotty, I-“

 

“You’re not doing this.” Scott stated.

 

“Scott-“

 

“No!” Scott yelled, his phone being crushed to pieces in his hand at the same time that his eyes flared. He stood up and shook his hand out to get rid of the glass. The room had gone quiet and Stiles bit his lip to not say anything. “You need to tell us what you’ve gotten into. You’re my brother. I promised I wouldn’t let anything happen to you after Theo, Stiles. I promised myself, and I promised you, even if you didn’t know it.”

 

“Dude, it’s not that bad…” Stiles murmured, but he wasn’t even convincing himself.

 

“Not that bad?” Scott scoffed. The pack’s first glimpse at Scott without Stiles wasn’t the Scott they were used to. This was just with the _talk_ of him leaving. “Why does it sound like this isn’t exactly a vacation then? Why does it sound like we won’t be hearing from you? Like we won’t know how you are?”

 

Stiles sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, and when he didn’t respond to Scott everyone else turned to look at him.

 

“Stiles,” Malia asked. “You wouldn’t leave and not come back. Right?”

 

“I have to do this,” He whispered.

 

“What happens if you don’t?” Kira asked softly. “Does Derek…”

 

The look on Stiles face was enough to let them know. He had to do this or Derek would go back to his former lack-of-life.

 

“You’re not doing this,” Derek said, just as Scott had. “I don’t care. You’re not leaving your home, your _pack_ only to never return because of this. God, you haven’t even told us why you would have to leave yet, so that must be even worse, huh?” Derek laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh.

 

“If you think I’m letting you die again, then you really are stupid,” Stiles growled.

 

Derek slammed his fist into the table and this time didn’t hide the flare of his eyes, “If you think I’m letting you do this, then you really are stupid.”

 

“It’s already done, you realize that, right?” Stiles stood from his seat in an angry rush of flushed cheeks and clenched fists. “Telling you was just a courtesy.”

 

“I swear, Stiles, I will board you up in your own house if I have to.”

 

“Even if you could, I’d just bring you back again and I wouldn’t even give you the chance next time.”

 

There wasn’t a single skip in his heartbeat.

 

“I need to go to the station,” John stood with the weight of his sadness on his shoulder. “Please, be here when I get back. We can figure this out.”

 

No one talked while he left the room, not until they heard the front door shut and an engine turn over.

 

Scott stared at the wall passed his best friend’s shoulder. He whispered, “why are you doing this?”

 

Stiles let out a shaky breath and turned away, so no one would see his eyes water. “Because I’m selfish,” his shoulder twitched in a slight shrug, but the nonchalant body movements didn’t match up with the choked-up emotion in his voice. “I can’t… I. I would rather leave and know that all of you are alive, and together, and okay, than just….”

 

Lydia covered her mouth and blinked up at the light a few times.

 

Stiles finally turned back toward Derek, who looked more wrecked than he’d ever let himself be in front of the pack. His face was pulled into a grimace but the lines around his wet eyes were sad. “Derek, I’m sorry that this is the way it’s happening, but I’m not sorry I saved you.”

 

Derek inhaled through his mouth, probably to keep from sounding like he’s sniffling but instead it sounded like a pained gasp. Stiles stepped around the couch and Derek pulled him against his chest before Stiles could even reach for him.

 

His dark hair was all you could see of his head, as he buried his face in Stiles’ throat. “I don’t want to let you do this.”

 

“I’ve already done it,” Stiles said as he rubbed his hands up and down Derek’s back. “Even if it wasn’t kind of a done deal already, there’s a magic at play here you don’t know about. You can’t stop it.”

 

“This is _wrong_ ,” Scott cried. “This is… I don’t, I can’t let this happen. Who is coming to get you, Stiles?”

 

“Scott, you’ll only make this harder,” Stiles shook his head, pulling away from Derek.

 

“You’re the one making this hard! We can help you.”

 

“Not with this.”

 

Blood oozed from Scott’s clenched fists and dripped onto the hard floor. “Scott, don’t do that.”

 

Scott’s head moved side to side and he pursed his lips. His fists let up for just a moment before his claws went right back into his palm. Stiles stepped forward and forcibly pulled his claws out of his palms.

 

“I’ll be fine, okay?” Stiles reassured. “I’ll be fine.”

 

“You can’t expect me to just let you leave.”

 

“I know,” His lip twitched a little on one side, the beginning of a sad, knowing smile that never came. “That’s why I surrounded the house with mountain ash at dinner and I had Parrish ask for my dad to come in at six.”

 

Scott lunged toward Stiles to grab his arm, but Stiles managed to keep distance between them.

 

“Lydia won’t break the line, and neither will Mason. Lydia can feel what will happen if she let’s you guys stop me. She knows that you’re going to have to let me do this.” Lydia said nothing but she pressed her lips into a thin line that says more than denial ever would. Derek looked ready to join Scott in chasing Stiles around the living room so Stiles dashed out the front door and over the ash line. “I’m doing what I have to, and I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I can’t feel sorry for my actions. I won’t.” He held his chin up defiantly.

 

“Stiles,” Derek roared. “Break the line, right fucking now.”

 

“I’m sorry, Derek.”

 

“Lydia, break the line.” Scott commanded, breathing through his nose in a poor attempt to calm himself. The pack didn’t look toward Lydia as they waited for her to walk to the front door. After a few moments of silence they all looked back to see Lydia on the couch staring at the floor. “Lydia!”

 

“Scott, he’s right.” She said with remorse. “If we keep him things will get bad. I can tell. And… it’s his decision.”

 

Scott made a noise of annoyance before looking to Mason. “Mason.”

 

Before Mason could so much as think about standing, Lydia stood and put her hand on his shoulder.

 

Stiles felt relief as the tension in his chest released slightly, knowing she wouldn’t let Derek die again. “Thank you.”

 

Lydia bit her inner cheek and nodded. “Go. They aren’t going to give you long.”

 

Stiles turned and rushed to his Jeep, ignoring the pack’s pleading. He looked to the porch as he backed out of the drive to see Scott trying to push against the barrier and Derek just standing and watching him with wide, hurt eyes in the rest of the doorframe. He looked to Derek and mouthed the only words he could think of saying in this moment.

 

_I love you._

_\--_

“Are you ready?”

 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Stiles swallowed.

 

“Let’s get this show on the road, then,” Aednat clapped her hands together and stepped toward Stiles. Her hand made contact with his forehead and for a moment he was confused, but before he had the chance to speak, black fog came seemingly out of no where and forced it’s way in his mouth and down into his lungs.

 

It burned and burned, like smoke inhalation, but nothing made a sound.

 

His chest felt stretched out and bursting at the seams, yet the fog kept coming. He could feel his heart slow as his lungs weren’t bringing oxygen to it, the blood wasn’t pumping through his body at the same steady rate as normal.

 

For a moment, he wondered if this is all it would be for the rest of his existence. Burning pain from the inside out and dizziness.

 

Almost as soon as he had thought it, the fog stopped coming. He had one moment to feel his body sway. To feel the ache in his body, so deep he didn’t know if he was imagining it or not.

 

To feel his heart stop.

 

After that one moment, everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone wanted a happy ending but...  
> Next part will begin very very soon ;)


	6. STORY HAS BEEN UPDATED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Next in the series has been posted and is already a few chapters in!!

Next in the series has been posted and is already a few chapters in!!

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at stormy-rains.tumblr.com


End file.
